New Kid in the Gang
by Pmp2a-Trish
Summary: After years apart, Kid and Heyes meet again at Devil's Hole.


**New Kid in Town**

Disclaimer: I don't speak Spanish. In fact, growing up in Texas and being the "rebel" I was, I took French – and I don't claim to be any more fluent in that language than I do any other. So, all (ok, most… I knew "Vamos") translations written within this story, and any others, come from Doctor Google, I just hope the geniuses in Silicon Valley didn't let me down.

Author's note: Thank you to everyone that has left reviews, they are greatly appreciated and definitely keep me inspired to continue writing.

* * *

The cabin was slowly growing dark; the shades were open, but the dying light of the evening sun did little for visibility inside. A solitary lamp stood on a table in the corner, casting only the dimmest light into the room. Furnishings were sparse with only two chairs, the table in the corner and one in the middle of the room, and a single bookcase against the wall. Hannibal Heyes paced the floor.

The debate had been raging for a solid three days now. He couldn't understand it; all the other times he had gone against a new man in the gang Big Jim trusted his judgment, even if his reasoning was nothing more than " _I just don't think he's right for the gang_ ," but not this time. Every argument he offered, Jim countered. Every suggestion, he refuted. He was beginning to doubt the commonly accepted assertion that he could talk himself out of or into anything. As he turned to make another pass, he again tried to talk some sense into his stubborn leader. Out of desperation he went back to his original argument, "He's too young."

Big Jim sat relaxing in the chair by the door watching as his young apprentice paced the floor before him. Heyes was off-kilter and that bothered him. He had been one of his best men for the better part of four years and his most trusted partner. Between them, they had brought in more money than Devil's Hole had ever seen. Yet something had changed since this young hombre arrived just a few days ago. Heyes had grown quiet and recluse, but what concerned him the most was that with all the arguments his nimble brained friend would offer, none of them rang true. "He is twenty-one years old."

"Exactly, that's too young."

"If I'm not mistaken, that's less than a year younger than you are now and three years older than you were when I let you into this gang."

"That's different, I had experience. I had already spent a year with Jim Plumber and was worth over $200."

"And… according to him, he has spent the last two years running minor jobs and has $50 on his head. Besides, he is the fastest shot I have seen in," he thought for a moment. "Fifteen years."

Heyes stopped; glad to have another angle to try. "We don't need another fast shot; we already have Butler. Next thing you know, they'll be trying to find out who's faster; we don't need that type of trouble."

"Heyes, you know as well as I do that Butler doesn't give in to those types of desires."

"Fine, what about the haul? It's already split ten ways; add another man and there won't be enough to go around for any of us."

"So, we'll pull an extra job if the money runs thin." He let out a laugh, "It's not like there aren't enough banks in the west."

Heyes became desperate and sat in the chair opposite. "Jim, I'm asking as a friend, not this one. Please, trust me."

Jim rose and began to pace, "Ah… trust. In you - absolutely. I only wish that you would have the same faith in me." Jim lightly placed a hand on Heyes' shoulder.

Heyes breathed deep, "Fine, he's not an outlaw, not like us. He could make right with the law with little or no jail time. Don't let him make the same mistake that we've already made."

"Tell me this, my friend. Let's say we send him on his way, do you really think he will go and, uh, make right with the law, as you put it? Hmm?" Heyes stared at the ground, "Or, do you think he would do the same thing you and I did? He will continue in this life until the warrant is so high that he sees the true price of his decision. Now, the real question is, why him? What is it about this particular gringo that has captured your attention so well, eh?"

After a moment, Heyes stood and walked toward the door, "I need some air." With that, he left the cabin.

* * *

The sun had almost completed its slow descent when Heyes heard the familiar footsteps behind him. He had spent the past hour on a ridge that overlooked the valley just outside of Devil's Hole, trying to find a solution to his situation. This was his favorite spot in the camp; it was quiet, peaceful. Facing north, the overhead trees provided ample shade on the ground just beneath. Filling the space sat a large rock, upon which Heyes sat staring out into the distance.

"I was told I might find you here."

"Yeah? By who?"

"Some fella named Kyle."

All the boys knew this was where Heyes went to think, but suddenly he felt slightly betrayed that they would share that knowledge with just anyone that came into camp.

"Big Jim still hasn't agreed to let me stay. You don't know anything about that, do you?"

"It's just part of the process, Kid. Jim doesn't make any decision lightly." Heyes turned, and for the first time in three days he took a good look at the Kid. It had been almost six years since they parted company. The last time they said goodbye they were both kids, fresh out of Valparaiso. In the intervening years he had grown taller, thicker. Though he would never admit it, it bothered him a bit that Kid had to look slightly down to meet his eyes, when it used to be the other way around. His hair had darkened over the years, it was no longer the light blond he had as a child. But what bothered him most was the way he held his stance. He kept his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, and his right hand was never far from the handle of a weapon that in the five years, he had mastered. His reputation had preceded his appearance in Devil's Hole. Over the years, he had heard how he had outdrawn one outlaw after another. He always felt a sense of pride when he would hear these stories, but only because the ending was always the same, _"Kid Curry's aim was so good that he shot the holster clean off."_ He was proud that even though they both chose the wrong path in life, neither included bloodshed and violence.

"Does Jim know about us?"

Heyes grew uncomfortable and began to pick at a loose thread on his pants, "Uh, no, I haven't mentioned it."

"Why not? If he knew we were friends then he'd let me stay."

Heyes turned back to the view he had been admiring, "Kid, things have changed."

"Like what?"

"You don't belong here."

"Why not?"

"Being in a gang, it's not like all those dime novels tell it. It's not just fast money and saloon girls."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Kid, you get shot; your friends die." Heyes looked back at the boyish face that he had known for so long. "You join this gang, and your life is over."

"Is that so?" Kid asked, sarcastically.

"Things have changed, I've changed."

"So have I!"

Heyes stood and faced him, "I know that. **That's** what worries me. I've seen men just as fast as you get shot down in the street. Kid, you don't want this."

An understanding came over him as he walked heavily up to his friend, "That's it. That's why he hasn't given me an answer. It's not about him having doubts about me; you don't want me here."

"Kid…"

"No Heyes. Why, because it's dangerous? Damnit, I've been wanted by the law for the past two years, I've been arrested, and yes, I've taken more than one bullet. I deserve to be here just as much as you do."

"You only have $50 on your head; you could go to the law, spend maybe a year in jail and be clean. You stay here and it's twenty years!"

"Heyes, this isn't Kansas and we ain't kids no more."

"You're right Kid, we aren't." Heyes said bluntly, and without another word made his way back into the camp.

Kid couldn't understand his reaction. For years he had heard about the great Devil's Hole. They had a reputation of taking in the best men and running the highest paying jobs. It wasn't a surprise to him when he heard that his old friend had taken a high ranking spot within the gang. He had always been a leader, even back in Kansas before the war. Among their friends it was always Heyes they looked up to. When he decided to give Devil's Hole a try, he honestly expected a warm reception and had been surprised when he simply shook his hand and turned away, as if the first fifteen years of their lives had been nothing more than an dream. In the three days he'd been in camp they'd only seen each other at meal times. It didn't take him long to realize that, for whatever reason, Heyes simply didn't want to renew their former friendship.

As he sat on the rock that had just been vacated, Kid realized why Heyes favored that spot. It reminded him of Kansas. There was a peacefulness of lazy summer days that they would spend in the back pasture of their parent's farm. As boys, they would climb a pair of trees and when they would reach the top, they would just sit for hours. Usually, Heyes would have brought a book, while he would whittle away on a piece of wood. As children, they would talk about everything; nothing, no matter how embarrassing, was off limits. It was that closeness that he missed all these years.

* * *

The morning sun was hot and beat down on the boys as they stood in a half-circle around their leaders. Each man stared intently at the two men that held their undivided attention. Big Jim and Heyes had called the meeting to go over the details of the upcoming job. Heyes stood proudly just to Jim's left. Kid, who stood in the back, couldn't help but notice how the air of authority seemed to fit him. He stood with his hands loosely resting on his gun belt, he wore a dark shirt and tan pants, his black hat perched high so that he could maintain a good view of the men in before him. Jim stood just as proud, yet he kept his hands in front of him, using them to convey his meaning just as much as his words. "Now, we have word that the Bank of Denver is shipping a large payroll to Ft. Laramie tomorrow. They should pass through Salt Creek at about noon. Lobo and Crusher, you will be responsible for derailing the train. Kyle, you will keep lookout from Miner's hill. Wheat and Curry are to take care of the passengers on the first car, Butler and Hank the second. Henry you take care of the conductor. Preacher will keep guard here at the Hole."

Heyes interrupted, "We've also got word that they are considering putting a U.S. Marshal on board to ensure protection of the payroll. So don't just rely on disarming their guns. You are to pat down any man on that train and keep your eyes focused on any suspicious movement while we take care of the safe."

"What happens if a Marshal is on board, what do we do then?" Wheat asked.

"Tie him. In fact, anyone that is carrying more than one weapon is to be restrained. Marshals are trained for this type of situation; let's not give them a chance to test out their skills."

"Alright," Jim resumed his portion of the discussion. "Kyle, make sure the horses are fed and rested. The same goes for everyone, you are to be in bed at sundown, is that understood." There was a smattering of understanding from the boys. "Lobo, I'm going to hold you responsible for them getting a good nights rest."

"Yes sir. Any man caught up after dark will get stall duty for the next week."

* * *

The morning was crisp and bright. The sun had set perfectly behind the clouds and rain from the previous night kept the air cool. Down below in the valley, the men could see the long stretch of ribbon that was the Pacific and Western rail line. This was their preferred spot to plan their attack. From high on a hill, they could see for miles both ways down the track. The unobstructed view was part of the reason they had stopped this particular line three times over the past six months.

From high above, Jim and Heyes watched as Lobo and Crusher worked to remove the rails. On such a clear day, they knew the conductor would have time to slow down before reaching the barren spot on the line. As they took one more sweep of the southern horizon, they saw puffs of steam emanating from the smoke stack atop of the engine car as it made its way down the tracks. Jim gave the signal and the boys made a quick run down the hill. Just south of where the tracks had been dismantled there was a heavy patch of trees and brush, behind which the gang stopped their horses. As they heard the squeal of the engine brakes Jim signaled for Henry to make his move. Henry was the smallest of all the men, which meant that he was also the lightest and fastest. He had never been the fastest draw, but what he lacked in swiftness of the gun, he more than made up for with agility. Henry jumped off his horse just as the engine began to slow and in one fluid motion shimmied into the engine car and held a gun on the conductor.

"That's right old timer, just keep on slowin' it down."

The conductor was an older man, his hair was gray and he wore the typical blue and white stripes of the rail line. His eyes held an exhaustion that twenty years on the line would often create. This had been the third time his engine had been stopped by Devil's Hole. Even though he strongly disapproved of their actions, he always felt a bit of relief when he saw it was them, knowing that the outcome could always be much worse. "I keep telling you Henry, this isn't the life for you."

Henry laughed, "Yeah, but ya gotta admit, it sure beats bein' on the other end of this gun."

When the engine came to a stop Henry slowly walked the conductor from the car. Using him as a shield, he walked him so the passengers had no doubt who was in control. From behind, the rest of the gang rode up, with guns pointed directly at the passengers cars. Jim spoke loudly as the boys boarded, "Now, we aren't looking for any trouble. Do as we ask, and no one gets hurt." Jim and Heyes dismounted their horses and quickly tied them to a tree nearby. As they passed Henry and the conductor, Jim tipped his hat, "Beautiful day, hmm?"

The conductor just nodded, "Be a hell of a lot better if you hadn't stopped my train."

Heyes smiled, "Don't worry Wyatt, you'll be back in service in no time, you know that."

The passengers slowly made their way down to the grassy embankment. The women were immediately directed towards a large log that lay across the ground. The men, however, had their guns removed as soon as they exited the train and were then directed to Lobo and Crusher. At the end of the engine car they would give a pat down of each man, ensuring that none held an additional firearm.

By the end of twenty minutes, only two men had to be restrained, per Heyes' order, for carrying a second weapon. Keeping the men apart from the women; they were placed in a clearing just to the women's left and ordered to sit on the ground. Once all the passengers were settled, the gang stood at the ready; never once letting their attention drift to anything but their charges, always prepared for the one fool to make a run at being a hero.

Down at the baggage car, Jim and Heyes easily broke through the loosely locked door. Heyes jumped in and surveyed his surroundings. Overall it wasn't any different than any other robbery. To his right, baggage sat stacked a good ten feet deep and five feet wide. But it was to his left that his attention was kept. Sitting on the floor was a Magnalock safe. Removing his hat, he gingerly sat and pressed his ear to the metal door, listening for the tumblers as he spun the dial. Jim stood at the open door, his attention going back and forth from Heyes to the gang. It didn't matter how often he watched his friend open a safe this way, it always made him nervous. He just couldn't understand the mechanics of it, but he had yet to be disappointed.

Twice he watched as Heyes turned the handle, twice the safe would not yield. On the third try, he asked. "There seems to be a problem, eh?"

Heyes furrowed his brows as he looked up at his leader, "Five more minutes, then we call Wheat." Heyes hated the times that they had to resort to using dynamite. It was too destructive, oftentimes damaging the car as well as the safe. Plus, as far as he was concerned, it lacked imagination. Anyone could light a fuse; it took skill to open the safe his way. He felt it was this approached that separated Devil's Hole from all of the other gangs.

Three minutes later a smile brightened Heyes' face as he heard the last tumbler fall squarely into place. With a slow turn of the handle he felt the lock slide and the door give way to the treasures it held inside. Jim quickly passed Heyes the empty bag and he made haste in filling it. Though he didn't have time to count it, he knew that it held nothing less than $30,000. With barely enough time to close the bag and pass it to Jim, shots rang out. Heyes jumped from the baggage car and together they looked towards the direction of the shots. On top of Miner's Hill, Kyle again fired three quick shots in the air, the sign that a posse had been spotted.

"Aye, we've taken too long." He shouted to his men, "Vamos!"

The group abandoned the passengers and quickly jumped on their horses. Unsure of which way the posse was coming from, they sped toward the bottom of the hill, the rendezvous spot with Kyle. As they approached the split in the trail Kyle greeted them with a look of concern. He pointed toward the west, "They're coming from that way."

To the west was another series of rolling hills, and their planned escape. "How far are they?" Heyes asked.

"Not far."

Jim shouted in frustration, "Aye, let's go." Digging his heels into the horse, he drove the steed southward. It was a harder drive, he only hoped that the posse continue to head eastward, instead of back through the rough hills.

Barely a few minutes had passed when they once again heard the sounds of gunfire. Except this time, they knew the bullets were being aimed at them. The terrain had become increasingly rough and the horses protested each spur of the boot and whip of the rein. Heyes was leading the gang around the bend; Jim trailed behind, trying to encourage the more stubborn horses to move with a bit more quickness. The ground was finally leveling off when Jim heard the shot and felt the weight of his horse go out under him. As it collapsed, he rolled to the side, hoping to avoid the crushing weight of the injured animal. His hand slipped and he watched as the bag of money tumbled down a heavy embankment.

"Jim!"

Looking up, he saw the newcomer, Kid Curry, racing towards him with his hand held out. Running towards him, he grabbed the outstretched arm and was quickly hoisted up on to the animal. With a quick glance behind, he saw the posse was getting closer, which meant their aim would become increasingly better. Once secured on the horse, Kid spurred it back in the direction they had been heading.

Almost an hour had passed and they were no closer to losing the posse. Some ground had been gained by going through a thin bare spot amid a thick patch of brush, but whenever they would look back, the heavily armed men were still there. As soon as the opportunity availed, they climbed a ridge to get a survey of the land and to make a decision on which way to go. Kid and Jim rode up beside Heyes, who asked, "How much longer do you think that horse can go?"

Kid thought for a moment, "An hour, maybe two."

"Take Jim back to Devil's Hole; I'll take the boys and head east, there's a ridge where I should be able to lose the posse."

Jim nodded in agreement, "Be careful amigo."

* * *

It took longer to lose the posse than Heyes had expected. He had started to become concerned just how much longer the horses could go when Lobo came down from the cliff, "No sign of 'em."

Heyes checked his watch, it was well past five. Devil's Hole was a good half-day ride, and without rest, none of the horses would make the journey. Looking north, he saw just what he was hoping for, a nice patch of land covered in trees that would give shelter. "All right boys, we'll make camp over there." He pointed toward the tree line. "We weren't quite expecting this, so, we'll just have to make due with what we've got."

Leisurely, they walked their horses towards the forest. Heyes breathed easier when he heard the soft gurgling of a stream close by, "Kyle and Crusher, take the horses for a drink. Butler, could you round us up a rabbit or two?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, Wheat and Lobo, try to find some kindling for fire. Henry, you think you could find a nice tree to keep watch from?"

"Spotted one on our way in."

"You take the first shift, Hank will get the second. I'll work to get the bedrolls ready. I want everyone well rested so that we can leave early, just in case that posse decides to make a sweep of the area in the morning."

The night passed with little excitement. After making a meal out of not just two, but three rabbits, the men laid in their bedrolls and drifted to sleep. The air was cool, just enough that they were glad they had the light blanket. The wind was filled with the sounds of the wild life that surrounded them. But, blissfully not a single sound of another human could be heard.

* * *

The next morning came early, earlier than Heyes would have liked. After breaking camp, the boys remounted their horses and made the long trip back to Devil's Hole. It was well past noon when they finally reached Dead Man's Point. Slowly pulling his gun from its holster, Heyes pointed it towards the sky, firing three slow shots. He then holstered his weapon as they made their way into the interior of the hideout.

Waiting for them in front of the leader's cabin stood Big Jim and the Kid. When they stopped their horses, Jim motioned to Kid, "Take their horses to the stables."

He nodded, "Yes sir." The boys dismounted, and each tiredly walked into the gang's cabin.

Heyes watched as his old friend led the first group of horses away, he then turned and walked toward his leader. "Let the boys get some rest, I'll send Crusher into town for another horse later."

"I will pick out my own." Heyes made a move to go around Jim towards the cabin. Grabbing his arm, he spoke quietly. "When I was thrown, the money went over the cliff."

Heyes let out a sigh and closed his eyes for just a moment, "We'll tell the boys after they've eaten; it'll make it go down easier."

"Aye, and one last thing, I told Curry he can stay."

Heyes looked up towards the sky and attempted a smile that he could not muster. Silently he went to find his own bed.

* * *

Coming out of the cabin, dread filled his stomach. He kept telling himself it was because of the lost cash and maybe some bad rabbit, but he knew better. Instead, a sense of helplessness came over him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. As he met Big Jim in the gang's cabin, his eyes immediately found those of the Kid. Doing the best he could to hide his disappointment; he focused on the task at hand, showing unwavering strength while telling the boys the haul was gone.

He was grateful that Jim took the lead, letting them down, while also promising an even bigger job, with a bigger payday. Within moments, disappointment turned to excitement at the idea of breaking into Cheyenne's largest bank, The Bank of Wyoming. Rumors had swirled for months that the bank held the payroll for the Wyoming Territorial Prison and, according to new gang member Kid, a large grant had just been transferred from the Denver mint, earmarked for structural improvements. "And with this payday, no one should have to worry about money for a year!" A roar came from the men, "That is, of course, unless some of you gringos lose your share to the local saloon." Another round of laughter. "So, it is settled, we will discuss the details tomorrow."

* * *

When the sun rose the next morning, Heyes' head pounded. He'd spent most of the night poring over the plans of the Bank of Wyoming. For months he had worked on his plan, but with the news of the federal grant, his timeline was shifted unexpectedly. The safe was a Pierce & Hamilton '72. Truth be told, he hated P&H. The risks were too high. Too much nitro and he'd kill every man in the room. Too little and the safe wouldn't open. That's assuming they could ride into Cheyenne, unnoticed, while carrying the highly volatile Nitro across Wyoming's roughest territory. He had finally had Big Jim convinced to abandon his plan, but then the Kid showed up. Without so much as a word to him, he announced the job to the whole gang.

Looking over the plans again, he saw the weakest area of the bank, the window just to the left of the safe. They had visited Cheyenne three times, each time to survey that window. It was old and badly installed. The bars had been taken from an abandoned bank in Denver. Though it would keep out any passer-byes, it was no match for even the weakest bar splitter. The only problem was that the window also faced another building, the jail. Big Jim was convinced that Henry would be able to get in before anyone noticed, but Heyes just wasn't so sure.

"Stop worrying so much. Open the window and let Henry do the rest."

"And if the Sheriff sees him going in?"

"Then we take care of the Sheriff, between Butler and Curry he doesn't stand a chance."

Heyes winced at the sound of Kid's name.

"Que es?"

"It's nothing."

With a disbelieving "hmph," he walked out of the room.

* * *

With each passing day, Heyes became more withdrawn, poring over his plan, calculating and then recalculating all that was involved with the opening of the safe. He collected all of the supplies, the bar splitter, the Bryant pump, the putty, the clock, the nitro, the blasting caps, the fuse, even the matches he packed himself. Refusing the help of others, he wanted to make sure nothing was missing, he left nothing to chance. When asked, he would state emphatically, that with a P&H '72, if anything was left out it would all be for nothing. But Jim knew better. His attention to detail had turned to obsession and he felt confident that his partner's sudden change had little to do with the upcoming job.

As for the Kid, he stayed to the side, silent in the background. At night, he would join in a round or two of poker with the boys, he never lost too much, but Jim felt certain that the Kid made sure he didn't win too much either. When the opportunity would arise, he would chat with the young man, feeling him out, seeing if he had some information that Heyes refused to yield, but just like his young partner, he remained elusive.

After another evening, another dinner where he watched as Heyes barely picked at the meal before him, he had enough. Calling both to meet him at the back of the hideout, near the wood stacks, his patience was over.

Curry stood off to the side; arms resting lightly on his gun belt, his face unreadable. Heyes, his ever loyal partner, stood proud. In the four years together, it was rare they had even the slightest disagreement, let alone a meeting at the woodshed. These were typically reserved for wayward members of the gang, men that had to have a "talk," one last chance before they were sent on their way. In all these years, not once had he and Heyes been on opposite sides of the conversation.

"Mirame," Heyes met his leader's eyes. He hated it when Jim started in Spanish. Over the years, he'd picked up a few words; he couldn't precisely translate them to English, but he knew the meaning all the same, and their use rarely resulted in a positive outcome to whomever they were spoken to. "It has been two weeks, dos semanas since he arrived. You have said nothing, nada that rings true. I expect answers, pronto."

Heyes took a deep breath. He wasn't accustomed to being on this side of Jim's anger, as his partner he always stood at his side as they berated a misguided member of the gang. Too often, he had seen men larger than himself cower at just a single glance, but knew that as one of the leaders of Devil's Hole, that wasn't an option. Walking the thinnest of lines between strength and humility, and knowing that his time to be open and honest had long passed, he sighed. "Fine. Our pa's were soldiers during the war against Mexico, after the Treaty at Guadalupe, they moved to Kansas, married, and raised cattle. Jed… Kid and I were born in the same house… the same one where we were orphaned. After the war, we were sent to the Valparaiso Home for Waywards, from there we ran away. That's it."

Big Jim's nostrils flared, "That's it? You grew up together, raised as brothers, yet you said nothing! Then, you spend days telling me he isn't right for this gang, doing everything you can to convince me to send him on his way, while keeping _this_ from me. Ay, and you think that is it?"

Heyes saw the flash in Jim's eyes. He knew what was coming next; setting his jaw, he braced himself as Jim's fist made contact, taking him to the ground.

Kneeling over his friend, "I expect complete honesty out of all my men, and that includes you!"

Rubbing the spot that he knew would bruise, he stood as Jim turned away. The gang had one hard and fast rule among its men, honesty above all else. It was a source of pride among the hardened outlaws; they could trust each other, no matter what.

Walking to Kid, Jim asked, "Is there anything else; anything that I should know?"

Kid slowly shook his head no.

"Muy bien." He turned to face the two men, "Now, before you come back to camp, you are to find a way to work together. If you can't, you can both leave, tonight."

As he watched the angry man walk away, Kid slowly walked towards his solemn friend, "Is he always so all-fired up?"

Heyes gave a half-hearted laugh, "You should see him when he's angry."

They both chuckled.

"Heyes, if you really want me to leave, I'll go."

"You heard Big Jim; I wouldn't be far behind you." He took a deep breath; "Kid, I don't want you here." Kid took a step back, slightly offended, "When your ma died, I made a vow to keep you out of trouble. She was the only one that knew my lies from the truth. She knew where was I was headed, so that day, I made a promise to keep you from following." With a slight shake of the head, he turned back towards camp.

Before he took more than a few steps, Kid spoke softly, "We were just kids."

Heyes gave a half-smile, "Yeah, Kid, we were."

* * *

The space between the buildings was dark. The only light streamed out of the solitary window on this side of the sheriff's office. From outside, Heyes watched as the deputy balanced on the back legs of his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, desperately trying to stay awake. As the front chair legs gradually made their way to the floor and the soft yawns turned into loud snores, he breathed a sigh of relief. Motioning to Wheat to keep his eye on the deputy, he went to the bank window and began his assault on the aged bars. With each crank of the bar splitter, he would look back at Wheat, but his gaze did not waver, the deputy did not waken. Once the window was fully exposed, he used his pick set to slide open the glass and watched as Henry, in one fluid motion, entered the bank. Once he was inside, Heyes picked up the tools and with a slap on Wheat's shoulder, they made their way to the rear of the bank, to the back door. From within, he heard Hank use his own set of picks on the lock, and in a matter of minutes the door was opened to let the rest of the bandits in.

Covering a lamp to dim the light, Heyes prepared his equipment. Kid stood guard at the back door, Wheat at the window, Butler outside in the alley - his eyes on the deputy. The other boys stayed at the horses, ready at any moment to race them to their comrades.

Silently they worked; sealing the safe with putty, waiting for it to dry, pulling out the air with the pump, connecting the hose. Big Jim confidently held the hose as Heyes slowly poured the liquid in. From the side, he could see Wheat watching him instead of the window. With a slight nod from Heyes, Jim growled, "Ventana." Though oblivious to the translation, the message was clear, as Wheat resumed his duties.

The work completed, they signaled for everyone to crouch in front of the teller windows. With a strike of the match, they all watched as the fuse made its march across the floor and out of sight. Protecting their ears from the noise, and their heads from any flying debris, each covered themselves the best they could.

The blast was deafening. Smoke filled the air.

Coughing, Heyes tugged on Wheat's shoulder as they made their way to the busted safe. Its door still hung on the top hinge and Kid held it open as Jim and Heyes reached inside, throwing everything they could grab into the bag, hoping they had more greenbacks than documents. Hearing a commotion just outside, they abandoned their monetary pursuit and ran to their escape.

Just outside the door, Butler was struggling with the deputy, roughly trying to gag him as his strangled screams reverberated off the nearby walls. Kid quickly came to his aid, helping him finish his work and tying his hands tightly behind him.

From the city square, they heard noises, voices, screams, "It came from the bank!" "Where's the Sheriff?" "Get your guns!"

Jim growled. "Vamos!"

From behind the buildings, they heard pounding hooves and only prayed that their riders were on their side and not the law. Running towards them, they jumped on the first empty saddle they touched, not caring which horse they were on. As they rounded the last building in town, just as they prepared to dig their heels into the horses' sides, they heard a scream. At the tail of the group, a local had thrown a rope around Big Jims shoulders, pulling him to the ground. Before anyone could turn their own horses, half the town appeared behind them, their guns out, ready and firing in their direction.

"Go!" Heyes screamed, desperate to get his men out of danger, to prevent a bloodbath. The bullets rained down around them as they sped hard and fast into the night. His heart pounding, he took the briefest look up to the Heavens and prayed the simplest of prayers, _please,_ _just let everyone live_.

Far outside of town, long after the sounds of bullets faded, he stopped the men. Jumping off his horse, he went to each, quickly assessing their condition. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Kid doing the same. Each man was heaving heavy breaths as they too looked to each other. Seeing that only Hank had been injured with a graze to the shoulder he went back to his horse and held tight to the saddle horn. He bent slightly over, desperately fighting the sick he felt in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he swung his leg over the saddle, determined to get back to the hideout before he let it overtake him.

* * *

As Heyes splashed his face with cold water, he heard the door to the bathhouse open. Looking through the mirror, he saw the Kid, looking solemn. Leaning against the basin, he asked, "Well?"

Kid walked to one of the tin baths and leaned against its side. "They've taken him to Laramie."

His worst fear realized, he took a deep breath and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Tight on his heels, Kid caught up to him on the porch of the leader's cabin. "What's the plan?"

Heyes stopped and turned, "What's the plan? There is no plan." Kid gave him a puzzled look. "Six months ago, we got jumped by posse. They arrested every last one of us, guess where they took us – Laramie. Wheat had been guarding the Hole during the job and when he tried to blast us out the next morning he ended up in jail with us. There's not a man in this gang that can ride into that town without being arrested. Hell, the only reason we made it out was because Hank was romancin' one of the saloon girls, she smuggled in a gun."

"This was six months ago?"

Exasperated, he ran his hand through his hair, "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"Before I joined the gang?"

"Yes and unless they've changed sheriffs – which they haven't – there is no way to get Big Jim out."

"This all happened, before I joined the gang?"

"Yes!" He began to pace, "I knew this was a mistake, I knew we shouldn't pull this job."

"Heyes, this all happened, before I joined the gang."

"Damnit Kid, yes. We were all arrested before… you… joined the gang." A huge smile broke across his face. Nodding in unison, he put his hand on Kid's shoulder, "You know what Kid, it just might work."

* * *

With the plan set in place, Kid, with his best suit packed in his saddle bag, set off alone towards Laramie. That morning he had sat with Hank, who told him all about the saloon girl. Her name was Sarah, she was short, barely tall enough to sit on a bar stool and didn't weigh enough to hold it down if a gust of wind were to come by. Her hair was as dark as sweet coffee, her eyes as blue as the sky and she smelled like a warm summer day. Kid really didn't care about the way she smelt or any of the other extra details he added, he felt her name and hair color would have sufficed, but considering the dreamy look Hank had in his eyes, he let him ramble on until he started getting a bit too personal. At that point he stopped him with, "I think I'll be able to find her."

The plan was simple, after gaining her cooperation, he would then go to the Sheriff's office to see Big Jim and explain their plan. Dressed in his Sunday best, and sporting a surprisingly realistic identification card that stated, "Mr. Michael O'Hare, Attorney," he felt confident that his identity would not be questioned.

Yet, just as he pulled up to the hitching rail in front of the saloon and he took a glance towards the jail, his heart sank.

* * *

Heyes waited impatiently for the Kid to return. He paced relentlessly inside the leader's cabin, but after hitting his knee on the low table, twice, he moved his pacing outside. The boys knew better to approach him when he was deep in thought, but apparently there were grumblings among the men, and someone lost a dare. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wheat make his approach, "Heyes, the boys have been wondrin'…" Heyes' eyes darkened, Wheat raised his hands in an innocent defense, "You know what, s'not important." Backing up slowly, he turned and went back into the gang's cabin.

Just as the door closed, he heard the three gun shots, the sign that the Kid had returned.

As Kid rounded the bend, he met him at the hitching rail as he came off the horse. With one look, his heart sank and his stomach turned. The boys had all come out as well, but with a wave of his hand, they stayed where they were as the two men went into the leader's cabin. Each sat in the opposite chairs.

"Eight guards, two on the roof, two outside the front door, two in the sheriff's office, and two in the room with Big Jim. They switch out men every two hours, four at a time."

Heyes let out a loud sigh and grasped for the last strand of hope, "The saloon girl?"

"Left town three months ago."

Heyes ran both hands through his hair, barely able to raise his head high enough to meet his friend's eyes.

"I was able to speak to him privately, but just for a few minutes. He gave me two messages to deliver to you."

"Those are?"

"He said to remember the Golden Rule."

Heyes closed his eyes.

"I'm guessing that doesn't mean what I think it does."

Heyes chuckled for just a moment, "You've been spendin' too much time in the Good Book, Kid. Devil Hole's Golden Rule: lives over freedom, always. Law or gang, it doesn't matter."

Kid nodded in understanding, "That explains his other message." Heyes looked up, mournfully, "Take care of his gang."

* * *

After a few minutes to digest the situation, Kid and Heyes walked to the gang's cabin. At the opening of the door, each man looked up from what they were doing, tensely anticipating the news. Sending Lobo to get Butler and Henry from the lookout, he explained that the news was important enough to let the entrances go unguarded, if just for a little while.

Looking at his men, he felt certain that he didn't have to break the bad news; it had already been broken by nothing more than his own demeanor. Upon the arrival of the three, he relayed the news Kid had just conveyed to him. There would be no rescue of Big Jim. For a rowdy bunch, not a sound was made as the truth set in, except for the occasional sniffle that came from the direction of Kyle, who embarrassing shrugged and muttered, "got a cold."

Without any words of comfort to provide, Heyes slowly turned and walked back to the door. Before he reached out to the handle, Wheat spoke up, softly, "Well, who's gonna lead us now?"

Lobo looked towards him, incredulously, "Idiot, Heyes is. Ain't that right?" He looked up at his leader and when Heyes turned around, he saw all of their eyes directed at him; some hopeful, some scared.

"Well, yeah Lobo."

"Who ya gonna choose to be your second?" Kyle squeaked out.

He hadn't thought about it, too devastated at the thought of his partner spending the rest of his life in jail. In that moment, he realized the decision had already been made. "Kid Curry."

From hopeful and scared to shocked and surprised, each man looked at each other, then to Kid and back to Heyes.

Standing tall, he put his thumbs in his gun belt. "I need someone that I know will have my back no matter what. I need someone that is willing to turn his horse and get any one of us; even when the posse is in sight. This gang needs someone that can take the lead if I end up next to Big Jim; someone that will put the needs of the gang over his own. You're all good men, but there is no one I trust more than the Kid."

With a smattering of "alrights" and "fine" he completed his journey out of the cabin and back into his own.

Inside, he placed his hat on one of the chairs. Going to the side table in the corner, he reached in and grabbed the bottle of whisky. Not bothering with a glass, he took a large drink, barely feeling the burn in his throat.

"You sure you want me to stay?" Kid stood behind him, his hat in hand.

"Where would you go if you left?"

He shrugged, "There's a few gangs in Nebraska I've heard about. One is run by Dwight Johnson, you remember him from Valparaiso? He left just before we did."

Heyes remembered him. He was a good guy, but his gang, not so much. He had heard a rumor once, a rumor he didn't like, a rumor he was sure the Kid had not heard if he was considering joining them. Regardless, the fact was he wouldn't go straight; he refused to get off the path he had chosen.

He took another swig, "This gang needs you."

"You still haven't answered my question; do you want me to leave?"

He took a deep sigh and turned to face his friend, "Yes, I do, I want you to go straight. But since you seem all stubborn-like about getting a price on your head that is as high as mine, it'd be down-right unfriendly for me to not let you do it. Besides, I meant what I said out there. There isn't a man in this gang that I trust more than you. So, if you want to stay, you can have Jim's room, I'll keep mine."

With a half-smile, he turned and walked to the door on the way to get his things.

As he turned the knob, Heyes called out, "Hey Kid, one thing, you tell those boys any stories on me, we might have to find out who's fastest."

Kid laughed, "Heyes, why would I do that, you got the same stories on me. And for record, I am and always will be."

Heyes laughed as he watched his friend leave, first the first time in weeks he felt hopeful about the future.


End file.
